


Dude, Where's My Car

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Public Sex, Rimming, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-27
Updated: 2006-07-27
Packaged: 2018-10-27 15:01:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10811355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Boys love cars. Do cars love boys?  Ron/Draco





	Dude, Where's My Car

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: _Written for Fire and Ice’s Move Title Challenge and especially for Jux_  


* * *

"Ron!"

 Snore.

 "Ron, wake up!"  Ron opened his eyes, Neville was hissing in his ear.

 "Wha?"

 "It's back."

 "It is?  It is not!"  Ron groaned and rolled away from Neville.  He pulled the covers over his head.

 "It is."  The earnest boy's voice was even more earnest than usual.  "And it's doing that thing again with its lights...blinking on and off...like it knows Morse code or something."

 "Oh, bloody hell!"  

 Ron got up and went to the window.  And there it was, his father's blue Ford Anglia, cutting doughnuts in the grass beneath the dorm room window.  

 Ron opened the window and a blast of cold night air whipped through his t-shirt.  "Go back to the forest, you nutter!" he yelled.

 At the sound of his voice, the car stopped in its tracks.  It rolled its headlamps up, as though it could see him.  It idled for a moment, then revved its motor and shot obediently off toward the forest.  

 Ron breathed a sigh of relief.  But as he turned from the window, he heard the squealing of the car's brakes.  He looked back to see the Anglia make a wide U and race back toward the castle, throwing up a rooster tail of grass and black soil.  _Shit._   Ron leaned out of the window and the Anglia came to an abrupt halt beneath him.  It revved its motor again and reared on its back wheels like a pony.  It blinked its lights; the headlamp covers falling and rising rapidly.  It looked, for all the world, like it was fluttering its eyelashes.

 "Blimey, Ron."  Harry was at the window now too.  "What's gotten into that thing?  It's like it's got the hots for you."

 Ron groaned and put his head in his hands. Harry had hit a little too close to the truth.

 * *  * * * * * * * *

 It all started with Draco Malfoy, of course.  As soon as he arrived back at the Burrow after fifth year, Ron had heard Order chatter about the rumor currently circulating among the Purebloods.  It seemed that Narcissa and Draco Malfoy weren't exactly distraught over Lucius Malfoy's incarceration at Azkaban.  In fact they were ecstatic-throwing champagne parties, Slytherin sleepovers, they were going to the theatre, the opera and even getting wasted once, so it was said, at the Leaky Cauldron, a place no refined Malfoy had ever before been seen.

 Still, Ron had been quite shocked to find Draco Malfoy outside his window one night as June was drawing to a close.  

 He'd been dead asleep of course.  The persistent knocking at his window had threaded its way into the crazy dream he was having about dangling helplessly by one hand from a Quidditch hoop at school.  A game had been in progress and Angelina Johnson was whizzing around him on her broom, screaming that of course he could block with one hand while holding on to the hoop with the other.  No, he wouldn't fall to his death, don't be silly.

 He was jerked out of the dream by the sound of shattering glass, a short silence, then a voice saying, "Oops."

 Ron sat up in bed, shaking his head to clear it.  He looked toward the window.  In the dark, just beyond the broken glass, a figure bobbed in the air.  "George?" he called uncertainly.  "Fred, are you out there?"

 "No, Weasel, it's me," came a familiar drawl.  "Now get your bum out of the bed and get over here.  I've got something to show you."

  _Malfoy!_

 Ron shot out of bed, fists curled at his side.  "Malfoy, you git!  What the hell are you doing here?"

 "I told you Weasel, I have something to show you," Malfoy sounded a little breathless, and pleased.  "Something you'll definitely want to see."  The blond bobbed up and down outside the window, his white hair a light smear in the dark.  

"Oh fuck, Malfoy," Ron growled, not believing Malfoy would dare to come to the Burrow.  "Shove off.  I don't want to see anything you've got to show me."

 "Sure you do, Ronniekins."  Ron could see Malfoy's perfect white teeth shining in the dark.  The crazy bastard was grinning.  "Now get your scrawny arse over here before I huff and puff and blow your shack down."  

 Ron stepped reluctantly forward.  His wand was on the table just under the window.  When Malfoy saw him, his eyes lit up and his grin turned absolutely wolfish.  "Very nice, Weasel," he purred.  "Really, I had no idea you had such yummy shoulders..."  

 Ron groaned.  Malfoy, the bloody perv.  The redhead's face grew hot as he crossed his arms over his chest.  He wasn't wearing much-just a light pair of pajama bottoms.  "All right, Malfoy," he growled. "I'm here.  Now show me whatever it is you've got, and then shove the hell off."

 "No." Malfoy's voice was bright.  "You've got to come out."

 "Out?"

 "Out here, dumbarse."  Malfoy did a loop-de-loop on his broom to show him.

 Ron gawked.  Malfoy's broom, for crying out loud.  It wasn't his old Nimbus 2001.  The lucky git had probably traded up for a Firebolt or the new Firebolt 500.  Whatever it was, oh bloody hell, it was fucking gorgeous ride.  Sleek and shiny, with a spoiler above its aerodynamic tail.  Ron could see it bite at the air, obviously wanting its head.  It wanted to fly all right, rip a giant hole in the sky, blast right up to the moon.  Malfoy had to work, nudging with his thighs, pulling up with his hands, to hold it back.  

 "Weasley, quit drooling over my broom like it's Harry Potter's arse and get out here."

 Ron jerked his gaze away from the broom.  "What the fuck are you on about, Malfoy?" he snarled, angry to be caught looking.  "I'm not coming out there.  What am I supposed to do?  Levitate?"

 "No, dickhead," Malfoy said, slowly, as though he were talking to someone very thick and slow.  "We're going to fly.  Now come on...and I've saved a seat for you...right here."  Malfoy patted the spot on his broom handle just in front of him.  His wolfish grin was back, bigger than ever.

 Ron was dumbfounded.  "Why the hell would I go anywhere with you, Malfoy-"

 "Because I SAID SO!"  Malfoy roared, raising his wand.  "ACCIO WEASEL!"

 Ron felt himself jerked quite hard right through the broken window.  He caught one bare shoulder on a shard of glass, felt his knees knock painfully against the window sill.  "Ow!" he shouted, tumbling into the open air, catching sight of the ground spinning crazily below.  And then Malfoy's strong arms were around his ribs, and he was being pulled across the broom handle.  "Up you go," said Malfoy, before nudging the broom and letting it tear off into the night.

 "Holy shit!"  Ron grabbed desperately at the broom.  He was hanging with one knee crooked over the handle while his other leg circled wildly in the air, trying to find some purchase in a slipstream that seemed to want to tear him from the broom.  He clung tight with both hands.

 Malfoy laughed, a silver sound in the dark.  "Hoist yourself up, Weasel, or you'll crash us.  Firebolt 500s are not very forgiving, especially not at this speed."

 Ron swore.  He tightened his leg hold and pulled up with his arms.  He nearly fell off though when Malfoy cupped his bum cheek and gave him a helpful boost.

 "Malfoy!  Get your hands off my arse!"  

 Malfoy only laughed and nudged with his thighs.  The broom leapt and went even faster.  Ron fell back against Malfoy's chest.  

 "Lean forward, dumbarse," commanded Malfoy.  "Your hair is whipping me in the face...I can't see a thing...lean...Merlin, you act like you've never been on a broom before...just lean over the handle and hold on tight...NOW!"

 Ron did as he was told, just in time.  Malfoy nudged again and the broom kicked into overdrive.  They tore through the clouds and under the moon, above a countryside that blurred beneath them as they shot forward and up.  Ron was pummeled by the wind, his hair beat about his face and his pajama bottoms fluttered madly against his legs.  And the wind was cold.  With his bare chest and thin clothes, he was freezing, his only warmth coming from Malfoy's arms, which reached around him to hold the broomstick.

 Malfoy leaned, the Firebolt banked sharply, streaking now, Ron could tell from the pattern of stars, to the west.  The air was rough, they were bouncing quite a bit, but with the Firebolt's advanced cushioning capacities, Ron hardly felt it.  He was amazed.  If he got bounced like this on his Cleansweep...well...he'd be saying so long to the future possibility of fatherhood.  Malfoy banked again, obviously showing off, the git.  The wind whistled in Ron's ears.  He shook his head. A Firebolt 500!  If Malfoy was going to kill him, at least he was giving him the ride of his life first.

 Ron startled as Malfoy's chin came to rest on his shoulder.  "You like?" a silky voice purred in his ear.  Malfoy's chest was now flat against his back.  It warmed him a little but still...

 "Get the hell off me, Malfoy."

 "Aw, Weasel, you make it sound like you don't like me."  Malfoy rolled them suddenly, forcing Ron to use the sloth grip to keep from flying off.  "You don't want to piss off the man in charge, Weasel...Hey, are you bleeding?"

 "Of course I'm bleeding, fuckwit," Ron retorted.  "You jerked me through a broken window."

 "Language, Weasley," Malfoy said, as he let go of the broom handle with one hand.  Seconds later, Ron felt a wand tip on his shoulder.  " _Sano wound_ ," Malfoy murmured.  Ron turned his head to see a purple liquid dropping from the other boy's wand, and into the open cut on his shoulder.  The cut smoked for a second, its edges drew together like a mouth closing until nothing remained but a thin red line.

 "There, Ron," said Malfoy.  "Don't say I've never done anything for you.  Now shut up, lean forward and enjoy the ride."  

 Ron squeezed his eyes shut.  Enjoy the ride, for fuck's sake.  He'd been kidnapped by a Malfoy, he was miles above heaven-knows-where, wearing nothing but pajama bottoms, and Malfoy had a wand and he didn't.   Oh the other hand, there wasn't much else he could do at the moment.  Ron opened his eyes, watched as the broom ate up air and the earth dropped away.  Then, he sighed, relaxed just a little, and decided, for once, to cooperate with Draco sodding Malfoy.

 When they finally landed, it was on a small island in the middle of a choppy body of water.  Ron had half expected Malfoy to dump him into a circle of Death Eaters and beat his chest like Tarzan-but not really.  Somewhere on the long cold flight, the strategic part of his brain had kicked in.  It told him that if someone had been sent to fetch him, it wouldn't be Draco Malfoy.  Particularly a Draco Malfoy who was rumored to be tickled pink by his father's incarceration, not a Malfoy who smelled of a mixture of Firewhiskey and champagne bubbles, and especially not a Draco Malfoy who had been barrel-rolling and singing for the past half-hour into Ron's less than appreciative ear.  And what songs he'd been singing.  Ron had never heard one of them before.  Lyrics like, Fly me to the moon...Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes...I'd like to get you on a slow boat to China, all to myself, alone..."  So, when Ron rolled to his knees after a rather bumpy landing (he'd never seen the ground come up so fast on his Cleansweep), he wasn't particularly frightened.  He was however, pissed-off, cold to the bone and strangely enough a little sick to his stomach.  He crawled away from the island's sandy beach and back into the shelter of some trees, curling in on himself to warm up a bit.

 Malfoy on the other hand had taken his broom and his wand and gone skipping down to the water.  Ron watched him reach into his robes and take out a pair of Omnioculars and train them to the west.  He followed Malfoy's gaze, and did a double-take.  He wondered how he could have missed what was so obviously in front of him.  Azkaban Prison.

 Ron had never seen Azkaban, but he'd seen enough pictures in his life.  Every wizard kid grew up knowing Azkaban's formidable shape.  Its blocky outline, fortress-like and rising high on an up-cropping of jagged rock.  The Dementors that floated above it in every photo or drawing Ron had ever seen were missing, but it was still unmistakably Azkaban.  Why had Malfoy brought him here?  Ron shivered and hugged himself.

 "Hey, Weasley.  Come on down."  Malfoy's voice reached him.  Ron picked his head up to see the white-haired boy waving to him from the beach.

 "Leave me alone," Ron growled.  More to himself than Malfoy.  His stomach still didn't feel very good and now he was beginning to feel a bit of the soul sickness he knew was a by-product of being so near the place Dementors had inhabited for so long.  

 Malfoy however, seemed unaffected.  He came stomping up the beach and prodded his foot.  "Come on, Weasley," he demanded.  "I didn't bring you here for nothing."

 Ron's immediate thought was to jump Malfoy, take his wand and his broom and fly somewhere, anywhere else.  But he found himself too sick, too cold and dispirited to try.  He got reluctantly to his feet and followed Malfoy back down to the beach.

 "Look here."  Malfoy handed him the Omnioculars (Ron couldn't help but notice they were much fancier than the pair Harry had given him), and showed him where to train them.  "What do you see," Malfoy asked excitedly.

 "Azkaban, arsehole," Ron said, irritably.  "I could see that from where I was before."

 "No, no, no, silly," said Malfoy, not bothered in the least by Ron's surliness.  He moved to stand behind Ron, which made the redhead very uneasy.  He spun to face Malfoy, wanting him where he could see him.  Malfoy looked at him like he was crazy, tried once more to step behind him.  And again, Ron whirled to face him.

 "Oh, fuck's sake," Malfoy snapped.  "As much as I'd like to dance, some other time, okay?  Look, Weasley, if I'd wanted to hurt you, I could have done it a hundred times already...when you were ogling my broom like it had tits, for instance...and do you know how easily I could have dumped you into the ocean?"

 Ron sighed.  It was true.  And Malfoy certainly seemed intent on showing him something.  Against his better judgment, he stood still and let Malfoy move behind him.  

 "That's better."  Malfoy brought the Omnioculars up to his own face, trained them, and then motioned to Ron to look through them while he was still holding them.  When Ron just stared stonily at him, he rolled his eyes, stepped even closer and put his arms around the redhead.  "Stay still," he barked, bringing his chin again to rest on Ron's shoulder.  He raised the Omnioculars once again, trained them, then shifted them over in front of Ron's eyes.  "See," he said, his voice a husky whisper.  "In the far turret, the one out over the ocean."

 For a moment, Ron looked, not sure what he was seeing.  Finally he took the Omnioculars from Malfoy's hands and then trained himself.  "Okay," he said, "I see a small window, iron bars...someone sitting on the floor..."

 "Yes!" Malfoy's voice was gleeful.  "Recognize him...recognize the fucker?"

 Ron continued to look.  The figure was a man, tall, lean with ragged hair.  He whirled the dials on the Omnioculars, bringing the focus in sharper.  Expensive robes, he could tell, but dirty and tattered, the hair gray, no, white...oh bloody hell, it was Lucius Malfoy.

 "Shit." Stunned, he turned back to Malfoy, who was doing a little dance on the sand.  "Malfoy," he whispered.  "You brought me all the way out here to look at your father?"  Raising the Omnioculars to his eyes, he looked again.  In fact it was hard to tear his eyes away.  Lucius Malfoy, the heartless bastard, the man who tried to kill Harry, who gave Ginny Tom Riddle's diary, who tried to get Hagrid fired, who did get Lupin fired...Lucius Malfoy, the Death Eater, hunched over his own knees on a stone floor in Azkaban.

 Malfoy was now turning cartwheels in the sand.  He had shed his robes and a bottle of Firewhiskey had appeared beside them, dug into the sand.  Malfoy waltzed over to the bottle, grasped its neck and took a deep pull.  "I brought you here, Weasley," he said savagely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  "Because I figured you of all people deserved to see Daddy Dearest rotting in Azkaban...after what he did to your sister, you deserved it...the only person I can think of who deserves it more is Potter, but you know what?  I hate Potter's sodding guts...so you were next on the list..."

 "Come off it, Malfoy," said Ron.  "You hate my sodding guts too...so why are we really here?"

 "Oh no, Weasley," said Malfoy, softly.  "I don't hate you at all."  He stepped closer.  His eyes were hot and his platinum hair shone in the moon light.  "Oh, I admit that we have certain...tensions, shall we say, between us...but I think we can work those out."  He stared at Ron as he moved even closer, the wolfish leer back on his face.

 "Malfoy..."

 "Shut up, Weasel," Malfoy snapped.  He held out the bottle of Firewhiskey.  "I want you to drink to Father's incarceration...Drink, Weasley to the lucky Dementor who rams his tongue down Father's throat and sucks out his soul like he's been sucking mine...."  Malfoy's eyes glittered and he looked a little mad.  Ron glared back at him, puzzled and angry.  

 "I SAID DRINK!"  Malfoy brought up his wand, flicked it brusquely over Ron's nipple.

 "Holy fuck!"  Ron stumbled back, his hand over his chest.  His nipple was burning as though Malfoy had hit him with a stinging hex.  

 Malfoy still held out the bottle.  He waggled his wand at Ron.  Ron took the bottle and drank.

 Malfoy whooped.  Ron jumped and dropped the bottle as Malfoy spun away from him and did another cartwheel in the sand.  Ron shook his head.  Crazy git.  The Firewhiskey was glugging out into the sand, spilling over his feet and making him colder than ever.  He rubbed his upper arms, shivering.  Malfoy had whipped another bottle out of thin air and was drinking and dancing on the sand again.

 "You know what, Weasley," Malfoy shouted.  "Mother and I come out here all the time.  We sit on the beach and have picnics, we drink champagne and wave at Father...bastard knows we're here, you know...Mother and I just laugh and make rude gestures...we dance, exquisite barefoot pas de deux on the sand...we dance in the air...Mother levitates beautifully, you know, flies me right up with her...she was training for the ballet when she married Father...imagine her, Ron, lovely Narcissa Black...light as a feather...en pointe in the air...the glissades...the arabesques...the fabulous leaps...in her white dress, she's an angel...just the person she always wanted to be..."  Malfoy fell silent, drank deeply from his bottle, glowered across the water at the prison.  

 "You know what else we do?" Malfoy suddenly said.  Ron looked up to see the blond stalking across the sand toward him.  "WE MOON HIM!" 

 "Moon him?"  Ron was puzzled.

 "Yes, Weasley, like this."  To Ron's astonishment, Malfoy flipped his shirt up, jerked his trousers down and bent with his naked arse pointed straight toward his father's jail cell.

 "Your mother does that?"  Ron couldn't imagine the elegant, excessively peeved looking woman he'd seen at the World Cup hoisting her dress and waving her alabaster bum in the air.

 "Hell, yes!" shouted Malfoy and pumped his fist into the air.

 Ron groaned and reached for the bottle of Firewhiskey at his feet.  It was still half full...and this was as good a time as any to get drunk.

 He drank and Malfoy danced.  Malfoy drank and sang and jumped on his broom to do straight vertical shots at the sky.  Malfoy drank and Ron drank and Malfoy talked and talked and talked until his words curled over Ron like a huge wave about to crash.  Ron shivered.  He was drunk and he was freezing.  He was on a beach with Malfoy who was talking crazy, saying strange things, confiding in him.

 "You know how parents aren't, don't you, Weasley?"  Malfoy was quite close now, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Ron and almost whispering; Ron didn't dare look at him.  "Always telling you what to do...your father thinks he knows exactly what's right for you, doesn't he..."

 "Actually," Ron mumbled, "that would be my Mum..."

 "So, you _do_ know..." Malfoy's face twisted in a sneer so violent Ron could see it from the corners of his eyes.  "You _do_ know how parents are...they know what's best for you, they try to control you...give you a taste of the Cruciatus if you resist..."

 "The Cruciatus?"  Ron was appalled.

 "Oh," Malfoy's sneer turned even nastier.  "So you don't know, Weasel...and here I thought we were bonding...getting through to each other..."  Suddenly the blond was turning to face Ron, leaning in to close the last inches between them.  "You know what, Weasley?" Malfoy's lips were close enough to brush Ron's ear, the redhead felt the gooseflesh rise on his arms.  "You know what Daddy's going to do as soon as he gets out of Azkaban?"

 "Gets out of Azkaban?"  Ron said in alarm.  

 "Don't be daft, Weasel," said Malfoy, drawing back a little.  "Of course he's getting out.  Father has friends all over the world...friends with more power than a pauper like you could ever imagine...do you really think he'll stay long in Azkaban?  He won't...and the first thing he'll do when he gets out...you know what that is?"

 Ron shook his head dumbly.

 "He'll kill me."  Malfoy laughed harshly.  "He'll kill me and Mother too...maybe he won't kill Mother exactly, but she'll certainly wish he had...he'll kill me because he'll realize I'm not ever kissing his Dark Lord's sodding arse...you should see those Death Eaters, Ron, lining up to wipe his lordship's bum...Death Eaters, my bloody arse!  Mother and I call them Shit Eaters...and Father's the biggest Shit Eater of all.  He's crawled up in The Dark Fuck's arse crack and made a nice little home for himself."  Malfoy took a long pull from his bottle and gave a short bark of laughter.  "That bastard has had his hand on the back of my neck from the day I could stand...but that's all over now.  Mother and I have agreed...the minute Father gets out...the minute it even smells like he's getting out...we're gone...we'll go to America, the Orient...Africa...we'll hide anywhere and everywhere until he finds us...and he will find us...he's got spies all over.  He'll kill us, mark my words, but before he does we're going to live a little, Mother and I...this is our window...my window, Weasley, the only one I'll ever get...and I'm taking it...."

 Malfoy's face was right in his, his breath hot and his eyes roaming all over Ron, over his face, to his shoulders, over his naked chest and down his stomach.  Ron, his head fogged with drink and sheer astonishment at the totally weird turns the night kept taking, thought, _this is it...he's going to do something...he's either going to kill me or kiss me..._

 Malfoy did neither.  Suddenly he drew back.  He studied Ron and the mad glitter faded from his eyes.  "What's wrong with you, Weasley?"  Unbelievably, his voice was full of concern. 

 Ron felt his eyes burn.  He turned away embarrassed and angry.  It was Malfoy's fault.  He was drunk and freezing and Malfoy was acting so weird...first maniac and now concerned...and not Malfoy concern, real concern...it was throwing him completely off balance.  Ron hated being off balance and he hated that he had such a hard time controlling his emotions, but he always had a hard time controlling his emotions, especially when he was drunk and freezing and Malfoy was acting so freaking weird...

 "What is it, Ron?"  Malfoy's hand was on his shoulder now.

 "I'm cold and I'm drunk," Ron said, miserably.  "And it feels like this island," he put his hand on his chest trying to figure out exactly how to say it, "this island is making me feel like I'm dying inside..."

 "Of course," murmured Malfoy, looking suddenly abashed.  "How silly of me.  I forgot, the Dementors, they affect you, don't they?  There are a few still left, you know...a few they couldn't chase away, they love it so much here...and the air of course is totally toxic.  Mother and I always protect ourselves when we come here...there are ways, you know, you don't really need a showy Patronus, I don't care what your precious Potter says...anyway I forgot about the Dementors and I am truly sorry."  

 He leaned in, put both hands on Ron's shoulders and kissed the redhead on the forehead.  Ron was shocked the find both the kiss and Malfoy's warm hands comforting.  Then Malfoy put his arms around him and that was even nicer.  

 "Let me make it up to you," the blond whispered into his ear.  "Let me take you someplace nice and make it all better."

 And he did.  Later as Ron lay on his back in some dark forest glade with Malfoy's cloak wrapped warmly around him and Malfoy's hot mouth eating up his amazingly responsive cock, he felt the world tilt.  Felt it tilt; revolve on some axis, spin to face another direction.  _Nothing,_ Ron thought as he heard his own guttural moan, _nothing would ever be the same..._

 * * * * * * *

 The car came back during Care of Magical Creatures. 

 Hagrid led the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth years to the edge of the lake.  He produced a strange curved horn from under his cloak and crouched.  Then with one end of the pipe in the water and the other end to his lips, he blew.  There was no noise, just a lot of bubbles rising to the surface.

 Hagrid stepped back among the students and waited.  The surface of the lake rippled, gave a colossal burp and the Giant Squid shot to the surface in a boil of limbs.  The students stepped back, stumbling into one another, murmuring and swearing.

 "Nuthin' ter be scared of," Hagrid said.  He waded calf-deep into the lake.  "C'mere, yeh great big lump," he said, grabbing one of the Squid's tentacles.  He sloshed back toward the students, dragging the tentacle behind him.  It bumped out of the lake, foot after foot, as long as a fire hose.  There was a powerful fish stink and the class, as one, backed up.

 Oblivious, Hagrid kept talking.  "Yeh'd think a big fella like this wouldn't need care, but take a look at his tentacles here...c'on now...nuthin' ter worry about..."

 Ron, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and sighed.  They stepped forward.  Hagrid beamed at them.  Over Harry's head, Ron saw Malfoy far to the right.  He had his arms folded over his chest, a smirk on his lips.  _Come on_ , Ron jerked with his head.  

 Malfoy only grinned.  He shook his head.  _No way, baby!_

 "Yeh'd think a great big git like this could take care of himself," Hagrid said.  "But the fact of the matter is, I gotta to baby him.  Gets scale rot on his tentacles, he does.  Have ter scrub it off with a Squid brush.  Now I've brought Squid brushes for yeh...yeh have to share a bit...and there's tentacle paste.  Well, come one, everyone, grab a hunk."

 There was a lot of complaining and whining, but enough of the Gryffindors came forward and took hold of the Squid's tentacles (Hagrid went back into the lake for more) to make the half-giant happy.  Most of the Slytherins sat on the bank, watching and smirking.  

 "Hey, Hagrid," yelled Malfoy.

 "That's _Professor_ Hagrid to you, Malfoy," snapped Hagrid.

 "Right, _Professor_ ," Malfoy rolled his eyes.  "What do you want with a giant Squid anyway?"

 "Yeh'd be surprised, Malfoy," answered Hagrid, "at what a Squid like this will do for yer lake.  First of all, there's the sewage treatment.  This bloke'll happily eat up what gets flushed in the lake from the castle..."

 "Ew," said Lavender and Parvati.  Quite a few students dropped the tentacles they'd been holding at arm's length and half-heartedly brushing.

 "Nuther thing," said Hagrid.  "A squid like this also keeps other things outta yer lake.  Sure if you were in the lake and he were in the mood, he'd take a bite...but mostly he don't eat much meat...it's his size what keeps away the riffraff...nasty critters like tiger-manatees, three-headed sharks and piranha-whales..."

 After class, Ron wanted nothing more than to take a bath.  He felt like he had scale rot scum under his nails and caking in the creases of his palms.  Hermione did a Scourgify for him and for Harry, but he still felt unclean.

 "Oy, Ron," Hagrid called as the trio turned to walk back to the castle.  "A word?" 

 Ron's eyes flicked toward Malfoy, who was ahead with Crabbe and Goyle.  Malfoy spun to watch as Ron returned to Hagrid, Harry and Hermione at his heels.  

 "What's up Hagrid?" Ron asked.

 "Yeh see what's joined the class?"  Hagrid pointed toward the woods.  

 Ron groaned.  The Anglia was in the thick brush at the edge of the forest.  Its headlamps blinked at them as it peered through the thick bramble.

 "That car again," said Harry.  "It showed up under our window last night...that's like the fifth time this term.  It seems to want something from Ron, Hagrid."

 "Right," sighed Hagrid.  "Come with me and I'll show yeh what it wants.  The bloody thing's bin humpin' my trees, Ron.  Scrapin' off the bark sumpin' awful and snapped not a few of em."

 Ron trotted after Hagrid, not sure what to say.  _Erm, sorry Hagrid, the car's been acting up even since Malfoy and I, oh never mind..._

 They entered the trees and Ron heard the Anglia rev its motor.  It came bumping slowly over the forest floor toward them, mowing down the small plants and bushes in its path.

 "Hey, car," Ron held out his hand to the car like he'd hold out his hand for a dog to sniff.  The car edged closer, slowly.  It paused, its grill inches from Ron's outstretched hand, the covers of its headlamps clicking.  Suddenly it nudged Ron, its fender shoving hard against his leg.

 "Ow!"  Ron staggered and caught himself.  

 "Hey!" shouted Hagrid.  "Back off, yeh car!  That's no way ter act!"

 "Get away from that thing, Ron," yelled Harry.

 Hermione had her wand out.

 The car backed up a little, it revved and came again at Ron.  It turned sideways this time, like Crookshanks did when he was going to rub on someone's leg.  Except when the Anglia rubbed against Ron, it nearly took his leg off.  Its weight bowled him over, and he went down, but not before the front tire ran over his left foot, the ragged metal at the wheel well sliced open his jeans and flesh, and its remaining side view mirror knocked a couple of his ribs out of place like loose teeth.

 Hagrid, Harry and Hermione ran between Ron and the car, yelling and waving their hands.  The car reversed slowly and Harry and Hermione followed it, shooting sparks off from their wands.  

 Grunting in pain, Ron turned to look back at the edge of the forest.  Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were there.  Crabbe and Goyle were flushed with delight.  Malfoy, however, was biting his lip, fists clenched and his pale face even whiter than usual.

 * * * * * *

 It was Draco Malfoy's fault of course.  Malfoy had turned up about a hundred times that summer, even after Harry arrived at the Burrow.  Ron had learned to leave the window open, he'd learned to sleep lightly, never knowing when he'd hear the light rap and a low rumble of laughter on the other side of the glass.

 Malfoy had flown him all over the countryside, always bringing him home before dawn, well and truly fucked.  He'd been buggered in barns, in fields, against trees and boulders, under the stars, in the rain and once on the floor behind a couch while a Muggle family watched their telly completely unaware, thanks to the silencing and invisibility charms Malfoy had cast.  He'd been snogged flying on Malfoy's broom at a thousand knots an hour, he'd been suspended with a hovering charm, his dick at eye level, well, mouth level really, while Malfoy deep-throated him, that had been a weird one.  He'd been bent over a seat in the Muggle Tube, undetected, thanks again to Malfoy's excellent spellwork.  He'd been tied to Malfoy's four-poster bed at the Manor while Malfoy did all sorts of evil and entertaining things to his body and Narcissa and the house-elves politely ignored his moans, which Malfoy informed him later had sounded uncannily like the lowing of a bovine beast in labor.  He'd learned to stand motionless when Malfoy knelt before him, not daring to move, less Malfoy take his hot and talented mouth away.  And he'd also learned to lie quietly in Malfoy's arms, _to stop twitching like a bloody rabbit, dammit_ , and listen to the blond talk, his voice pattering like rain, while he stroked Ron's hair and skin as though he were some exotic pet.

 All in all, it had been an interesting summer.  He hadn't had much sleep and he had to be careful to keep covered the livid bite marks Malfoy liked to leave on his ribs and hips (he didn't dare swim) but he felt strangely smug and satisfied all the time, and went about, as Harry and Hermione informed him, with a dazed smile on his face.

 As fall term approached, Ron had wondered what to expect.  To tell the truth, he was afraid that once back at Hogwarts, Malfoy would ignore him or return to his hallway taunts.  And two weeks before term, Malfoy broke off all contact.  Ron wondered if the blond was even returning to school.  Maybe he and Narcissa had made good on their promise, maybe they were already in New York, hobnobbing with society wizards, maybe they were hiding out with vampires in Romania...maybe Malfoy wasn't coming back, the thought turned Ron's stomach cold every time it came into his mind.  Really, if _his_ father were a nutter like Lucius and he was sure he was going to escape from jail and murder him, would he return to school?  Or would he just grab a fast broom and hit the sky?  On the other hand, Ron reminded himself, even Malfoy had to know that with Dumbledore on guard, Hogwarts was the safest place for him to be...

 All of Ron's fears were laid to rest ten minutes after he boarded the Hogwarts Express.  He'd been on his way to the Prefects' car, when the door to the boys' washroom had opened and a strong arm had pulled him in.  The next thing he knew, he was being pressed back against the closed door with Malfoy's tongue deep in his mouth and those familiar long-fingered hands going all over this body.  

 Finally Malfoy broke the kiss.  "Miss me?" he said, one hand, then the other, finding its way down Ron's jeans.  

 Ron didn't want to say, "yes, completely!" but somehow Malfoy's clever hands had a way of wringing out the truth.    

 * * * * * *

 "Where are you taking me," Malfoy asked.  "I don't like the Forbidden Forest, you know."

 "I don't much like it either," replied Ron, stepping over a particularly bumpy knot of tree roots.  But what I have to show you is in here."

 "Well, what is it?" Malfoy snapped.  He was swinging a Bludger bat in one hand, his wand at the ready in the other hand.  His sleek head snapped around at every noise.  Personally, Ron thought it was kind of cute to see Malfoy acting all twitchy, since that was usually Ron's job.  

 "Draco," Ron said.  "Put down the wand."

 "Why?"  Malfoy didn't lower his wand an inch.

 "Well, I thought we'd have a snog...before we set off into the woods like Hansel and Gretel."

 "Oh, all right.  About the snogging, I mean," said Malfoy.

 Ron stepped into Malfoy's arms, kissed him until the blond finally relaxed.  "All right, Ron," Malfoy said, breaking the kiss.  "You have persuaded me.  Let's go see whatever it is you want me to see.  I have a feeling I'm not getting any until we do."

 Ron laughed.  "This way."  And then, like the idiot he was, he led Malfoy deeper and deeper into the forest until they hit the path that led to Aragog's lair. 

 "Let's wait here," Ron said, stopping them on the path.  He leaned against a thick tree in a small clearing and motioned to Malfoy.  "Come here...let's share some of that famous Malfoy body heat."

 Malfoy's eyes lit up and he moved over to Ron, opening his robes as he stepped closer.  He had the bat over his shoulder and he looked like a cave man coming to claim his mate.  "Open your robes, too," he commanded, "and your shirt."

 Ron obeyed, feeling his nipples harden as Malfoy came within inches of him.  "Draco," he laughed, shakily, "you have no idea what you do to me..."

 Malfoy's grin was wicked and pleased.  "Likewise," he purred.  "Do me a favor, Ron...reach up and grab that branch above your head..."

 "Hey, what about the body heat..."

 "Patience, patience...I promise you will get hot.  Now grab for the branch, baby, I'm in the mood to play...a little revenge maybe...you bringing me out in this sodding forest..."

 "Draco," Ron said, shivering.  "You're just not happy unless someone's suffering..."

 Malfoy smirked.  He glanced up at the branch above Ron's head, looked meaningfully at the redhead.  Ron reached up.

 The blond dropped the bat.  He came closer.  "Don't let go," he whispered and kissed Ron.  

 Ron kissed back, gasping in Malfoy's mouth and digging his fingers into the bark as Malfoy tweaked his nipples, started rolling the stiff peaks in lazy circles.

 "That's it," Malfoy breathed.  He put one hand at the back of Ron's neck and drew him closer.  He kissed him harder as the other hand continue to play with the nipple.  

 Ron groaned.  Malfoy laughed softly.  "You are so responsive, little Weasel, which has always made you so much fun..."

  _Who are you calling little,_ Ron wanted to say, but his mouth was full of Malfoy's tongue and in truth, Malfoy wasn't so little any more.  He had grown taller over the summer, Ron hadn't really noticed until their encounter on the train, but now they could stand eyeball to eyeball, or rather eyeball to nose, as Ron still had a few inches on the blond.

 Now Malfoy dropped his hand from Ron's nipple, firmly cupped his crotch through his jeans.  "Nice and hard...oh no you don't, Ron...grab the branch...or you get nothing..."  Malfoy stepped away.

 "Oh, sod it, Dray," Ron reached up for the branch again, it was a little high, causing him to stretch.  "You bastard..."

 "I am a bastard," agreed Malfoy.  "A bastard, a bitch, a son of a bitch and a dirty low-down Slytherin scoundrel and you are an absolutely fucking gorgeous piece of meat."  Malfoy grabbed Ron, kissed him hard, one hand firmly squeezing his crotch, the other grabbing his arse.  He sucked at Ron's neck, bit at the crook of his shoulder, let his tongue trace a path from shoulder to nipple, from nipple to rib.  Then Malfoy slid to his knees.  He jerked Ron's jeans open, popping the button and tugging down the zip.   "Okay, Ron," he said, "let's let the big fella out."

 "You talking to me?" Ron gasped, clinging to his branch.  "I can't do anything here...I have to hold the tree up..."

 "Weasley, you're a lazy sod," said Malfoy, fondly.  His hand snaked into Ron's tight jeans, emerged with a heavy handful of cock and balls.  "Nice," he said, rubbing his face against the swollen cock, licking at its head.  His fingers lightly stroked Ron's balls, the sensitive skin behind them, then, he grabbed the redhead's hips, swallowing down his cock to the root.

 And then it happened.  What Ron had been waiting for...at least what he'd been waiting for before Malfoy had starting playing with him, making him forget the reason he'd led his lover into the Forbidden Forest in the first place.  There was a huge crack, and a rumble, then, the crunching of branches beneath something big.  A blaze of harsh light flooded the clearing.

 "What the fuck..." Malfoy whipped around on his knees, staring, blinded by the light.

 Ron was just glad Malfoy had had the presence of mind not to bite.  "Relax, Dray," he said, letting go of his branch and striding forward, tucking himself back in as he went.  "It's just the car."

 "Car," said Malfoy, still on his knees, gazing blankly at Ron.

 "My Dad's car.  The one Harry and I flew to school second year."

 "Car...second year...you brought me out here to see a fucking car..."  Malfoy sounded as though he couldn't believe his ears.

 "It's cool, really.  It's gone totally feral."

 "A car!" screamed Malfoy.  "A stupid Muggle car."

 Ron rolled his eyes.  "Get up, you spoiled brat.  I'll remind you that I went with you when you had something to show me...

 "Not very willingly," muttered Malfoy, staring at the car.

 "No, but I went and I looked, because you asked..."

 "You went and looked because I made you..."

 "Okay, Draco," Ron threw up his hands.  "Have it your way."  He strode over to the car to inspect it.  He'd seen it once or twice since second year and each time it seemed a bit wilder, a bit less like a machine and more like some kind of animal.  The Anglia rumbled, waiting as he approached.  It still had its turquoise paint, but the blue was badly dulled by streaks of mud and there were gashes in its sides and bonnet.  The glass of the windshield was broken into a web of cracks.  One of its side mirrors was gone, but the other was still there, it swiveled now to face him.  Ron peered through the windows.  Inside, the cushions were torn, he could see springs poking out and some kind of vine growing out of the floorboard, twisting around the passenger side headrest and out a centaur hoof-sized hole in the back window.

 "A bit the worse for wear."  Malfoy's voice came from behind him.

 "It's a good car," Ron patted the bonnet.  "Had some adventures in it...owe it my life...really..."

 "It's a fucking piece of junk," said Malfoy, flatly.  His hands were on his hips and his lower lip was protruding.

 "See, that's your problem, Draco," said Ron, irritated.  "You're too arrogant when it comes to magical creatures...that's what got you into trouble with Buckbeak..."

 "I'll thank you not to mention that miserable creature," Malfoy snapped.

 "Just show a little respect..."

 "Why should I have respect for a crude Muggle toy...one, I might add, that just interrupted what was going to be spanking good sex..."  Malfoy's voice trailed away.  He narrowed his eyes at the Anglia, which was rumbling rather menacingly at him.  "What is this," he snarled, pulling out his wand.  "Is this piece of junk threatening me?"

 "HOLD ON," shouted Ron, getting between Malfoy and the Anglia, spreading his arms protectively.  "You are not going to attack my car..."

 WHACK!

 "OW!"  Ron fell backwards, sprawling out on the bonnet of the car, which had just driven itself into the back of his knees.

 Malfoy's face lit up with his familiar wolfish grin.  "Now, that's more like it," he said, coming to lean against Ron's legs, trapping him on top of the Anglia.  The Anglia idled quietly; it seemed to on the same wavelength as Malfoy, for crying out loud.

 "It's like," Malfoy said, sounding like delighted as a kid on Christmas, "it's offering you up to me on a platter..."

 "Come on, Draco," said Ron, trying to get up.  Malfoy easily pushed him back against the bonnet.  With his feet off the ground and Malfoy pressed up against his knees, Ron really didn't have much leverage.  "This is not what I had in mind.  This thing flies, you know...at least I think it still flies...I thought maybe it would take us for a spin..."

 "Did you really think I was going to get inside that thing, Ron?" asked Malfoy, cheerfully.  He placed his palms on either side of Ron's head, lowered himself down on top of the redhead's body.  "It's dirty inside and full of, did you notice, spider webs..."  He crushed his mouth against Ron's, kissing him hard and grinding their groins together.  Suddenly his sleek head came up.  "Do you feel that, Ron, it's vibrating...that's rather nice..."

 Ron struggled up to his elbows.  "Dray..." he started to say, but the car _was_ vibrating and Malfoy was right, it was rather nice.  All sorts of pleasant sensations were buzzing and tickling through him, through his arse, his balls, his cock...

 "Yes, rather nice," said Malfoy, grinding their crotches together again.  "I can definitely work with this..."

 Malfoy threw his full weight on top of Ron and the redhead fell back against the car again.  Its bonnet was warm and Malfoy was warmer, kissing him and slipping his hands under Ron's open shirt, sliding over his sensitive ribs.  

 Ron gripped Malfoy's shoulders.  "Draco," he moaned into the blond's mouth.  "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

 Malfoy raised his head, one eyebrow lifted.  "If you're thinking I'm going to fuck you on the bonnet of this car, then, yes, I am."  He rocked his hips against Ron's.

 "Right," said Ron, weakly.  "Well, let's get on with it, then..."

 Malfoy had already started.  He put his tongue back in Ron's mouth, kissing him hard so their teeth clicked and their lips crushed together in a way that made Ron moan helplessly.  Malfoy wound his hands in Ron's hair to keep his head still as he kissed him, Ron wrapped his legs around Malfoy's waist and together they began thrusting hard and fast against each other.  

 " _Divestus_ ," Malfoy muttered.  Ron felt the familiar sting of Malfoy's wand on his belly.  His clothes pulled to the right, then jerked and suddenly both he and Malfoy were naked atop the car.  Ron cried out as Malfoy broke the kiss and brought his mouth down on one nipple, sucking and teasing with his tongue as their mutual thrusting grew frantic.  

 "Draco," Ron said, "I'm going to..."

 "Oh no, you're not," said Malfoy, breaking away completely.  He stood panting in front of the redhead, who, completely lost, continued to hump the air.

 "What the hell," said Ron, dizzily, rising to his elbows.

 "On your belly, Red," commanded Malfoy.

 "Oh right, Blondie," Ron snapped back.  Nonetheless, he turned over on his stomach, squirming a little until he was comfortable atop the Anglia's bonnet, as comfortable as one could be when lying with a raging hard-on on the bonnet of a car.  And while most of Ron's mind was occupied with his hard-on, another part stood to the side to be miffed at Malfoy.  It was Ron's idea to come out in the forest, but Malfoy thought he was in charge...taking over as he always did, the little fuck, and...holy shit...Ron yelped as Malfoy opened his buttocks and with the tip of his clever tongue touched his hole.  Suddenly, he didn't give a rat's arse whether Malfoy thought he was in charge or the bloody Queen of England for that matter.

 Malfoy's tongue swirled around Ron's anus; it lightly teased the pucker, then withdrew to dance over the ticklish flesh of his cheeks.

 "Um, guh, yeah" said Ron.  That was about all he could manage.  He reached up and with both hands and gripped the place when the car's bonnet met the windshield.  He felt his fingers digging into squishy rotted flora, but he didn't really care, for Malfoy's tongue which had been darting all around the pucker of his arse suddenly slipped inside.  In and out and in and out, Ron squirmed as Malfoy tongue-fucked him, moaning, begging and probably offering up his first-born.  He rocked his hips against the bonnet of the Anglia and even in his sex-stupor, he couldn't help but notice that the Anglia seemed to be rocking back.  Then Malfoy's tongue left his hole and a slippery finger slipped in, going straight for _that_ spot. Ron squeaked, saw stars and forgot about the car.

 One finger, two fingers, three, Malfoy continued to stretch him.  Ron moaned and thrust back.  He raised up on his elbows and tossed his head, flinging his hair, impaling himself on Malfoy's fingers.  Then he felt the car rock again, it lurched forward and Malfoy fell heavily against his back.

 Ron tried to look back.  "All right, Draco?" he panted.

 "Don't stop me now," grunted Malfoy.  "Just budge up a bit.  I'm coming up there with you."

 Ron crawled higher on the bonnet, digging his fingers into the crack between the bonnet and the windshield.  Malfoy was right behind him, pulling his hips up slightly as he guided the head of his cock to Ron's hole.  In a moment, he was in and they were rocking back and forth, and this time Ron was sure the car was rocking right along with them.

 "It is just me..." he managed to gasp out.

 "No," Malfoy sounded equally winded.  "The car is definitely getting its rocks off..."

 Malfoy reached around and grabbed Ron's cock, pumping as he thrust.  The Anglia's engine rumbled, its body shuddered and it shook from side to side.

 "You think," Malfoy panted.  "This is what they mean by auto erotica?"  

 Ron didn't bother to answer him, he had his head down and was lost in the rhythm, the incredible sensation of Malfoy moving inside of him, Malfoy's fist pumping him.

 "Hey, look at that," Malfoy's voice called him back.  Ron looked up to see the Anglia's side mirror revolving to look at them.  It tipped down and up, seeming to scan them.  "It's watching us," breathed Malfoy.

 "Bloody hell," said Ron.

 Malfoy lengthened his strokes now, taking time to pull all the way out and slide back in to the hilt.  Ron, ready to be ridden hard and fast, groaned in frustration.  "Easy, Red," Malfoy said, slowing his hand on Ron's cock, too.  "Let's give this car something to owl home about."  The blond took his time, matching his in and out strokes with his up and down movements on Ron's cock.  Ron soon caught Malfoy's rhythm, pushing back to meet the blond's thrusts.  The car, too, was rocking back and forth.  Its engine whined, its rear wheels spun, it shook from side to side.

 Malfoy started to speed up, Ron felt his orgasm building.  "Come on, big boy," Malfoy snarled.

 "How do you know it's a bloke?" Ron managed to gasp.

 "Well, it's blue, isn't it?" Malfoy answered, breathing heavily.  "Besides, I meant you."  Ron glanced over his shoulder.  Malfoy was gazing at the side mirror, which was gazing back at him.  "Damn," the blond panted.  "I look good on top of you...you know my father has, had, a few Muggle toys of his own...the one I'm thinking of might be fun to play with...video camera or something like that..."

 Ron tensed, his ears were roaring, he was about to come and it was like it always was, he was groaning, making some or all of the noises Malfoy loved to tease him about and Malfoy was talking, like he always did, running his ever-loving mouth, as the orgasm pooled, gathered then shot out of his cock in stream after stream of milky white.  Malfoy followed, bellowing as he thrust himself in to the root one last time.  And the Anglia was right behind them, revving its engine, spinning its wheels and shaking so hard, Ron and Malfoy were nearly thrown from the bonnet.  Its engine rumble rose to a whine, then it gave an almighty shudder, settling back on its chassis as cloud of steam issued from under its hood.

 "Wow," said Malfoy, raising his head from Ron's back and looking the Anglia right in the mirror.  "Was it good for you, too?

 * * * * * * * *

 Malfoy waited until Madam Pomfrey had shooed Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Seamus and Dean out of the Infirmary before he slipped into Ron's bed and put his arms around his lover.  "Does it hurt?" he asked, putting his head on the redhead's shoulder.

 "Not really," said Ron.  "Just don't squeeze my ribs, okay?  Not tonight anyway."

 "I won't," said Malfoy, kissing Ron's cheek.

 "What's wrong, Dray?" asked Ron softly.  Malfoy seemed pensive and gentle enough to worry him.

 "It's just that I wish I'd been closer," the blond said.  "Potter and Granger don't know the right kind of spells to repel a magicked machine.  I'll teach you," he added firmly, "...but," and his voice grew softer again, "I just wish I'd been closer and we didn't have to, you know...keep secrets."

 "It's okay, Draco," Ron said, pulling Malfoy closer.  He was touched, as he always was, when Malfoy showed something other than his brat side.  Not that he didn't like Malfoy's brat side, it was part of what made the blond so much fun, that and a touch of his born-in-the-bone wickedness.  Still, an armful of tame Malfoy was a sweet thing too.

 "Let me see the leg," said Malfoy, sitting up and pulling down the covers to Ron's hips.  Ron pulled down his pajamas and showed Malfoy the wound Madame Pomfrey had closed.  

 "She used the same purple smoke you used," Ron said, "you know...on our first date..."

 "That's a nasty bruise," said Malfoy, touching Ron's leg lightly.  "Listen, baby, I'm afraid we're going to have to do something about the car...it's stalking you...and I'm afraid it's really going to hurt you.  I don't know how to de-magick it, and I'd be worried it wouldn't work...I'm afraid we're going to have to kill it."

 "No, Draco," said Ron, shaking his head.  "I can't kill my Dad's car..."

 "Ron," Malfoy rolled his eyes.  "The thing's in love with you.  It's going to try and mount you next and it's going to break your back."

 "I can't kill it!  It trusts me and beside I told you, it saved my life, and Harry's once..."

 He probably shouldn't have mentioned Harry.  Malfoy sat up abruptly and crossed his arms over his chest.

 "Fine.  Does your precious Potter know what to do, then?"

 "No, but Hagrid says..."

 "Hagrid," huffed Malfoy.  "Are you really going to listen to that great oaf?"

 "Draco," Ron said sharply, feeling his face heat. "There's going to come a day when I'm going to have to ask you to stop talking about my friends that way."

  Malfoy's eyes blazed.  "And when that time comes, Ronald Weasley, you better be down on one knee with a ring in your hand."

 "For crying out loud..." Ron started, then he stopped.  There was a dangerous look in Malfoy's eyes...and something else, a vulnerability the redhead had never seen before.  "Oh, Dray," he said, helplessly.  "I'm sorry..."

 "Never mind, love," said Malfoy.  His mood had changed abruptly and he was running his hands fondly through Ron's hair.  "Go ahead.  Tell me what your Hagrid said."

 "He said."  Ron took a breath.  "Hagrid says we're going to have to find a mate for the car."

 "A mate?"  Malfoy's voice was incredulous.  His look was too.

 Ron nodded his head.  "A mate."

 "A mate," said Malfoy, putting his head in his hands.  "Oh bloody hell..."


End file.
